Looking Back: 1916 candidate's wealth used against him

Published 7:00 am, Sunday, July 3, 2011

This 1916 calendar served as a campaign poster for Plainviewan Reuben M. Ellerd in his unsuccessful campaign for U.S. Congress.

This 1916 calendar served as a campaign poster for Plainviewan Reuben M. Ellerd in his unsuccessful campaign for U.S. Congress.

Photo: Jennie Pennell Collection

Looking Back: 1916 candidate's wealth used against him

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In the 1916 race for U.S. Congress from the 13th Congressional District of Texas, the smart money was on Reuben M. Ellerd of Plainview.

In fact the vast majority of money in that particular campaign was in Ellerd’s war chest — most of it from the candidate himself.

An attorney by trade, Ellerd arrived in Plainview in 1905 and served as district attorney from 1905-06, before going into private practice. But he spent most of his time and energy involved in land speculation with his brother, John J. Ellerd.

The region was experiencing explosive growth with once-vast ranches being broken up into farms. And, as fast as tracks for the railroad could be set down, excursion trains filled with land agents and settlers began arriving.

Together the Ellerd brothers amassed quite a fortune for the day, and by 1916 Reuben Ellerd was ready to spend some of that money in a run for U.S. Congress.

In 1916, Hale County was one of 53 counties in 13th Congressional District of Texas. The district included all of the Texas Panhandle and stretched eastward to within 35 miles of Dallas — more than 400 miles long. It was 20 percent larger than the state of Ohio. In fact, the 13th District was larger than any state east of the Mississippi except for Georgia.

Referring to Ellerd’s 1916 campaign material, Jennie Pennell admitted that her great-great-uncle likely was somewhat of a hypocrite by claiming to be "a young man in the very zenith of his power, both mentally and physically."

She doubted that he could really live up to his claim to be "a man of high ideals, noble purposes, clean life, religious principles, tender soul, sensitive conscience and consecrated to the welfare of his country and to the uplift of humanity."

But, much like modern politicians, Ellerd tried to craft an all-American image.

"Morally he is far above the average man," one political ad claimed, "practicing self-control and abstaining from all forms of dissipation and self-gratification. He drinks no intoxicants and does not even chew or smoke. He is a born leader and is on the right side of every great moral issue — just the kind of man our country needs in Congress today."

At 43, the candidate stressed his youth along with his other physical attributes, including "a native of the South, of fine Anglo-Saxon blood, auburn haired, fair complexion, with deep brown eyes, square shouldered with a military build, firm set jaw with determination and courage, clean life free from all forms of dissipation and vice, trained in the schools of law and ethics, right on all moral issues and a Democrat bred and trained."

Four hopefuls entered the July 22 Democratic primary for the 13th Congressional seat — incumbent John H. Stephens of Vernon, W.E. Prescott, Reuben M. Ellerd and Amarillo lawyer Marvin Jones. All four knew that whoever prevailed would be assured victory in the general election since Texas had been solidly Democratic since the Republicans had been cast out of office following Reconstruction. Texas remained a one-party state until Republican Bill Clements was elected governor in 1979.

While Ellerd spent lavishly in the 1916 race, his opponents turned that spending against him, portraying Ellerd as a wealthy man who had lost contact with the common man.

Half a century later, in 1970, Jones looked back on the 1916 campaign in an oral-history interview with Jerry N. Hess for the Harry S. Truman Library.

After graduating from the University of Texas and passing the bar exam, Jones located in Amarillo in 1908 and practiced law there for seven years before entering politics. The race for the 13th Congressional District was his first foray into public life. The ultimate victor, Jones held the House seat for the next 23 years, relinquishing it in 1940 to become a judge with the U.S. Court of Claims. During World War II he took a leave of absence to serve as U.S. War Food administrator. He returned to the court in 1947 as chief justice, remaining in that post until 1964 when he became a senior judge.

While Ellerd easily carried Hale County in the July 22 primary, voters in the rest of the district were not as kind.

According to the Hale County Herald, Ellerd got 829 votes from county voters, followed by Stephens with 278, Jones with 192 and Prescott with 18. However, early and incomplete returns district wide showed Jones had 13,705 votes to Stephens’ 7,138, Ellerd’s 6,940 and Prescott’s 1,633. The then twice-weekly Herald never did report final district numbers, but Jones had enough votes to win without a runoff. In 1970 Jones recalled that he carried all except five counties.

In a 1916 campaign finance report, no local candidates reported spending more than $300 in their race, and the vast majority spent well under $100. However, Ellerd reported local expenditures of $4,878.96.

In his expense report, Ellerd said he had not gotten "any contributions from any firm, corporation or individual, except the money spent and data furnished by my friends and my brother, J.J. Ellerd, in the amount of which I do not know."

Jones said he was able to carry the district because he simply outworked the others. "I really worked at it. I bought a Model T and I drove it like the wind, worked day and night, wore myself out, but I was elected."

Describing Ellerd, Jones said he "was a great big man, physically — he was also a great talker. He spent a lot of money, and I didn’t have it to spend, so I used his lavish expenditure of money as my text. I said it’s his money, he has a right to spend it in any way he wishes.

"We didn’t have loud speakers much in those days," Jones said. "There were no movies — no radios. People came to public speaking in that era. I would say, ‘It’s Mr. Ellerd’s money. I’m not criticizing his spending, but,’ I said, ‘I want to talk to you about approving that lavish expenditure of money in seeking public office. If you want to close the door of opportunity to every young man in the country, this is the way to do it."

Explaining his strategy, Jones said, "I would see a boy standing by his dad, or a man with a boy in his arms. I would look at the man with the boy standing by him and I would say, ‘Before you scratch my name from the ticket on July 22, I want you to take that blue eyed boy (or brown eyed boy), in your arms and say, ‘Son, I voted today to close the door of opportunity in your face. I love you, but this is what I decided I had better do.’ I believe that argument was very effective."

And Jones wasn’t above some dirty tricks in the campaign.

"I would like to tell you one incident that happened that was published all over the state later," he recalled in 1970. "They had a picnic reunion at Matador. It is right out on the prairie and there wasn’t any shade. They had an arbor built covered with gunny sack material — the only shade on the grounds. There were some mesquite, but it was summertime and dry and those mesquite trees simply stopped the breeze and didn’t stop the sun.

"Everybody came into that arbor bringing their children. The arbor was oblong with the speaker’s stand on one side. A big mechanical merry-go-round was located on the opposite side from the speaker’s stand. It produced the most mechanical music I ever heard, and was pulled by two small mules. There were not many people riding on it, mostly the youngsters. Very few could hear the speaker. The women would let the children blow up the singing balloons. Dr. Samuel Brooks, president of Baylor University, was running for the Senate. He was a magnificent speaker. I admired him very much. He spoke at 11 o’clock and very few could hear him.

"Mr. Ellerd and I spoke in the afternoon. By agreement, we would alternate in speaking that day — he spoke first. Mr. Ellerd was the rich man, a great big husky fellow, and he puffed and blew and hollered and just wore his voice out. I was sitting there with the chairman whom I had known in school, Wendell Johnson, and I said, ‘What do you think that fellow makes on that clanking merry-go-round’ He said, ‘Not very much, about eight or 10 children are riding on it.’

"I said, ‘If you can hire him to break down for about $3 when I start speaking, I think it’d be a good investment.’

"He says, ‘That’s a good idea.’ He slipped out and went around. He came back grinning. I didn’t think he had had time to get back. He said, ‘I got him for two.’

"When I started speaking I had a magnificent hearing of country people. The folks stopped all the talk, and I had a wonderful hearing before the big crowd and a lot of handshaking followed. After it was over I met Mr. Ellerd, my adversary, out on the grounds. He said, ‘You’re the luckiest damn man I ever saw. That machine broke down just after you started speaking.’

"I said, "Yes, I guess I was lucky, wasn’t I?’

"I have a picture of that merry-go-round. The newspaper had coincidently taken a picture of that whole contraption at that time. Years later when the story was published over the state, (Matador newspaper publisher) Douglas Meador sent me a clipping."

About 15 years after Ellerd’s foray into politics, he died under suspicious circumstances. According to family members, he apparently died of poisoning in a Los Angeles hospital after being run down by an unidentified motorist.